It’s going to be no job at all to love these people. Les Bretons are a handsome, sensitive, considerate, sad-eyed group of people. Not one of those even who turned us down was rude to us. A little impatient, in some cases, but never discourteous. And the children! Consistently beautiful, smiling, and mannerly. The families are understandably close and loving. Most of the doors have little plates on them with inscriptions such as “M. et Mme. Derilieux et leurs enfants” or “M. et Mme Leroux et leur fils.” The children often answer the door, and always in a smiling, friendly manner.
Here one can see what Eliot meant when he called humanity an “infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.”
Took care of some formalities and then visited Elder Higley’s converts until 10 p.m. Ran into my first taste of bigotry and persecution. One of the dear sisters of the branch, Soeur Bauguin, let the elders use her apartment to set up the portable font and hold a baptism. As a result, it looks as if she’s going to lose both her apartment and her job. Kinda sobers a guy…
The members we met with are the sweetest [11] folks in the world — and all have those big, brown, sad Breton eyes.
One young couple [the Desquines family] is very well educated. He’s a professor of French at the Université de Rennes and is the first counselor in the branch presidency (Elder Higley is the second). His wife [Conchita] is a real doll, with all the Gallic charm that has been known to make Yankee girls fret and worry. But I know one that needn't lose any sleep. Though I have to admit the mademoiselles here are mighty demoralizing.
Soeur Delétang said tonight that my accent is better than Elder Higley’s. Sweet of her. True, also. His is atrocious. Mine’s only bad. Bonsoir.
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